


Occam's Razor

by jongdaesang (d10smessi)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Atheism, Blasphemy, M/M, Religious Conflict, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13514121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d10smessi/pseuds/jongdaesang
Summary: On the brink of losing God, Kyungsoo finds Jongin.





	Occam's Razor

**Author's Note:**

> this is supposed to be written properly but then i want everything to be as vague as possible so i thought God or god? and then it turned out to be this way i'm so sorry.
> 
> please mind the themes of the fic.

**_occam’s razor_ **

 

_the belief that when making a conclusion, there are no more assumptions needed than what are necessary. that is, what is simple is often the explanation._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

the man is here again.

 

kyungsoo is sweeping the floors of the hallway near the confessional rooms when the same man he’s been seeing walks past once more. tall and impeccably dressed in an expensive looking business suit—there’s curiosity tingling underneath his skin, wondering what a man buttoned up to the neck is hiding beneath starched collars and italian dress shoes.

 

he has been going into confession twice a week for two months now. even to kyungsoo, who is one step short of being a priest, it seems like an overkill.

 

the man slips from his sight and kyungsoo turns away. dust settles in the air like tiny crystals, throws rainbow amidst the silence of the church. sunlight streams past the stained windows—lighting up marble in reds and yellows, like watercolor vomit.

 

kyungsoo sweeps the floors. 

 

the man is not his to mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

the weekend ushers in the slow drizzle of roman catholics. hallways and seats overflow with harried devotees and the courtyard is filled to the brim with shiny cars. religion is for the middle-class and never for the poor.

 

kyungsoo knows that god is for the privileged. the donation boxes are heaping with white envelopes folded in the middle, hundreds of thousands of korean won tucked inside. in father lee’s office, there’s a locked drawer with mint checks. for people with few zeroes in their bank accounts, most would rather work the weekend than spend it sitting down.

 

the mass is halfway and he resists the urge to yawn. father lee drawls on and on as kyungsoo stands to the side. he mouths to the word sometimes, knowing everything by heart as what’s drilled to him during his years in the seminary. a carefully placed _amen_ here and a sign of the cross there—there is a method to faith and belief.

 

father lee continues speaking. kyungsoo leans his weight on his right leg.

 

the mass disappears into a blur of noise and motion.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

kyungsoo is cleaning the confessional rooms again when the man in the expensive suits walks out. he looks a little bit more pissed today than usual. his hand messes his hair and kyungsoo can see the way he tugs it harshly. 

 

his italian dress shoes echo in the halls and kyungsoo averts his eyes when the man removes his suit jacket and undoes the top three buttons of his white shirt. the fabric stretches across his broad back and his posture highlights the way the cotton fits every ripple of muscle.

 

kyungsoo gulps and turns away completely. he doesn’t check if the man has gone out.

 

he wipes the red wood with the microfiber cloth, right to left, right to left, until a cough interrupts the pattern of his movements.

 

“that poor boy,” father lee sighs beside him. the aging priest runs this church with a soft fist and an iron heart. he’s old and grandfatherly, in a way that is distant and unattainable. priests all seem like that, kyungsoo thinks—like nothing can ever touch them.

 

kyungsoo keeps quiet, knowing he shouldn’t ask.

 

father lee shakes his head and, unprompted, he shares, “he’s been coming here regularly, calls himself an atheist. i think he’s been trying to get his faith back. successful and rich—but without god.”

 

the elder priest says it like it’s such a tragedy. kyungsoo is inclined to agree except he shouldn’t. father lee isn’t even allowed to talk about these outside the confession room. the four walls hide the secret for the sinner.

 

“i even talked to him outside confession.” father lee, it seems, is on a roll. “i told him to get into your support group, kyungsoo.” he claps his hand on kyungsoo’s bony shoulder and presses, stepping into kyungsoo’s space. the younger male resists the urge to shiver and shake the feeling of the older man’s touch off. 

 

“yes, father.” he grips the cloth tightly and twists it between his hands. his knuckles are white. father lee’s hand remains on top of his clothes before it falls away. the tips of his fingers graze the length of kyungsoo’s upper arm slowly.

 

“he’s a habitual sinner, son,” father lee whispers as if warning kyungsoo. “concupiscence.”

 

the priest says _concupiscence_ like it’s the worst sin out there, like there are no moral issues more important than what a man does with his cock. father lee is that type—so many of the priests kyungsoo knows are.

 

kyungsoo doesn’t answer but he nods. guild builds up inside him, alongside frustration.

 

father lee walks away and kyungsoo finally breathes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

kyungsoo runs a support group every saturday afternoon. two hours of prayer and sharing, reflection and even games as icebreakers. sometimes, he prepares them a movie to watch and they will talk about it afterwards.

 

it’s just like any other group of friends hanging out except they do it inside one of the conference rooms in the church grounds. the average sized room is converted into something akin to a lounge and kyungsoo walks with a laptop clutched to his chest and several books. today is book club.

 

he rounds the corner leading to a narrow hallway. this building is less grand than the church, less grand that father lee’s office with the heavy wood and scented candles in fragile glasses. the walls are decorated with paintings from the flea market or the thrift shop. kyungsoo knows that father lee owns an abstract piece that costs five million won. it’s a— _gift,_ for lack of a better term. lack of a less criminal term.

 

there is a long figure leaning against the wall. his pants are ironed and smartly fitting. his leather shoes shine from the fluorescent lighting overhead. he is tapping on his phone screen shortly before he pockets the device. he hitches his pants higher before slipping his thumb past the trouser band. he smoothes his palm down the length of his torso and over the pressed white shirt he is wearing. 

 

“good afternoon,” kyungsoo greets him. the man turns around and sure enough, this is the same man who goes to confession more times than most devout catholics. and also, the apparent atheist.

 

“good afternoon,” the taller male replies. his adam’s apple bobs up and down and kyungsoo cannot help the way his eyes follow the motion. the man’s shirt is opened, the top three buttons are undone, and it shows a great expanse of tan skin—built solid and smooth. the white shirt fits tightly against his upper body.

 

the man snorts and kyungsoo averts his eyes. he raises his gaze upwards and finds the male smirking down at him. his thick lips are quirked slightly to the left—the man’s left, not kyungsoo’s. 

 

he looks like he knows something, a secret maybe, that’s dirty and lascivious. kyungsoo feels uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the man’s brown irises. 

 

he stares at kyungsoo for a moment and the light from above shifts when the other man moves. he casts a shadow that looms. he seems larger than life like this—all smirks and tailored clothes. he runs his fingers through his hair and they fall into a messy disarray. the strands are half coiffed in a style that’s popular nowadays. kyungsoo is not exactly sure—he lets his bangs fall to his forehead and graze his thick eyebrows.

 

after a second or two, and a beat, the man says, “i’m kim jongin.”

 

jongin doesn’t offer a smile but he does extend his right hand. kyungsoo gives him a small smile before he replies, “i’m kyungsoo. do kyungsoo.”

 

he takes jongin’s hand between his and the man’s grip is firm but not tight. it’s not loose either and it reminds kyungsoo of the businessmen and women frequently making donations to the church. kim jongin seems like that type—corner office in a high rise with modern interiors, glass and metal everything with neutral colors, and a busty secretary with boobs done at gangnam and a size two wardrobe.

 

“nice to meet you, kyungsoo,” jongin drawls out. he drags kyungsoo’s name at the same pace he does with his eyes on kyungsoo’s figure. the smaller male clutches the laptop and the books closer to himself.

 

“nice to meet you, too, jongin,” kyungsoo replies softly. their hands separate and kyungsoo resists the urge to look at his palm and see if the other man’s touch has left an imprint. “father lee told me about you.”

 

jongin raises his eyebrow. “did he?”

 

kyungsoo nods and he smiles again. if there is anything he likes and enjoys about running a group, it’s meeting new people and sharing experiences. the help they provide each other, for him, is really just a bonus. 

 

“he said you were trying to get your faith back,” kyungsoo says. “maybe rekindle your relationship with god. we all go through that, you know?” he blabbers on.

 

jongin scoffs. “i didn’t say that.”

 

kyungsoo frowns. “he mentions that is why you are here. in group. because of you wanting god back in your life.”

 

jongin tilts his head to the side and the sharpness of his jawline is caught by the bright light. the shadow cuts a sharp length.

 

the taller male shrugs before he says, “i’m not here to find god again or whatever. i’m not stupid—” kyungsoo scowls at this. jongin raises his eyebrow in challenge, or maybe out of habit. “one of my brothers is a big donor to this church—kim jongdae?”

 

kyungsoo knows kim jongdae only by name but he has seen the man drive a sports car straight out of the pages of fancy foreign magazines. if that is who jongin’s brother is, then the corner office and busty secretary assumption is most likely the truth. 

 

“he says attending group will do me some good.” he lifts his shoulder again. the shirt presses against the musculature of jongin’s body.

 

“somehow,” kyungsoo begins. “you don’t strike me as someone who will just listen and roll over if told something.”

 

jongin smirks again and it’s attractive—really attractive. the man looks like a lazy model from the pages of vogue. he makes arrogance look editorial.

 

“ _oh,_ ” jongin notes with an amused lilt to his voice. his eyes sparkle, tease. “ _i can definitely listen and roll over if told something_.” 

 

his eyes rake over kyungsoo’s form again and a pink tongue slips out to lick a plush bottom lip. kyungsoo stops himself from copying the gesture as he tears his eyes away from jongin’s mouth.

 

kyungsoo can feel his own cheeks turning red but he bats it away. he sucks his stomach just a bit as he breathes in through his nose. 

 

jongin breaks out into a short huff of laughter before he tilts his head to side, pointing to the direction of the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“good afternoon, everyone,” kyungsoo greets as he enters the room. everyone from his usual group has made it and he sets his laptop and the books down in front of the table. the place is occupied by a long conference table but instead of hard chairs, there are soft seats for the group members. there is one vacant seat for jongin already.

 

“i have someone here that will join us today.” kyungsoo smiles cordially. his cheeks are beginning to hurt as he sits back down. jongin sits across him and the man’s eyes do not leave him at all. kyungsoo swallows before he says, “can we begin another round of introduction again?”

 

there are several murmurs of ascent and there is only one whining noise. kyungsoo ignores it—it’s oh sehun, the high school student that has been sent to the group by an overbearing mother who cannot handle her own son during the weekends. sehun has said he is only here because his father, an overseas worker in japan, is paying him extra cash.

 

kyungsoo tilts his head to jongin’s and the man waves. it does not take a genius and a god to think that jongin is being sarcastic and ironic.

 

“hi, i’m kim jongin. 27.” he settles against his chair in a more comfortable position, sinking down into the plush material. 

 

“hey!” someone calls out. the deep voice reverberates within the walls of the room and kyungsoo turns to park chanyeol smiling largely at jongin. he is sitting beside jongin but the music producer makes shooing motions with his hand as he adds, “you should tell us what you do and why you’re here. or like, what your sins or vices are.”

 

jongin laughs and it breaks out into a soft scoff. “what? like some alcoholics anonymous for lost christian souls?”

 

chanyeol raises his hand like he’s raising a glass of alcohol. “exactly like an AA for lost christian souls.” he laughs to himself before continuing, “and i’m park chanyeol. 29 and a music producer. funny enough, i was at an AA before. even did some rehab too.”

 

jongin gives an indulgent smile before he curls his hands above the table. he looks large sitting in front of kyungsoo—in the literal and figurative sense.

 

“kim jongin. 27. i am the coo.” jongin pauses before he hums. his lips twists in a half grimace and half smirk. “i’m here because the ceo of the company threatens to put me out of my job for having too much sex.”

 

“well,” someone interrupts. kyungsoo usually does not and him allowing the members of the group to freely speak fosters an environment of camaraderie—or nonchalance. “you should have sued him and the company. that’s unlawful.” he pauses before grinning impishly. “kim minseok, by the way. i’m 31 and i’m a lawyer. i’m here because—well—because i’m a lawyer.”

 

“i wish i can just sue.” jongin almost laughs—almost, because it sounds bitter to kyungsoo’s ears. “the company is my family’s and the ceo is my older brother. also, he did have a point.” 

 

this time, he turns his eyes to kyungsoo’s direction and he bites his lip again, smirking as he says slowly, “and it kind of is my fault. i did fuck my secretary, _his_ secretary, a daughter of one of the members of the board, _and_ one of the board members themselves—among other things—people. yeah.”

 

minseok whistles at that. “i can’t help you right there.” he laughs out loud. “unless you have paternity lawsuits then…”

 

he trails off and jongin shakes his head a little. “no paternity lawsuits. i’m not that stupid.”

 

“that’s awesome!” sehun enthuses. presumably about jongin’s very active sex life. he flushes before saying, “sehun. 18. i’m here because my father is paying me to be.”

 

jongin quirks an eyebrow and he comments idly, “business-minded. i like it.”

 

sehun beams proudly before baekhyun interrupts with, “they should assign you married staff.”

 

jongin grins, all teeth and shark-like. predatory and intimidating. “they did. my old secretary was.” he shrugs once more. “though i did not know it at the time.”

 

baekhyun huffs, dibelief clouding the sound of his slight chuckles. “maybe boys?” baekhyun gasps. “and i’m baekhyun, 29. i’m a famous author though i won’t say my pen name.”

 

this time, jongin pauses and kyungsoo feels the man turn to him. his sharp eyes pin kyungsoo to the seat and stops him from moving. the shorter male pauses as the air is forced into his lungs, as if he can’t breathe. as if he should not. it feels like being a kitten stuck in a cage with a starving lion.

 

“the board member is a guy,” jongin lazily replies. he does not look at baekhyun at all. kyungsoo still has not taken a breath, no matter how deep or how shallow. “i’m an equal opportunity lover.”

 

kyungsoo holds the shivers that threaten to break out underneath his skin. goosebumps rise all over his nape as jongin licks his bottom lip, eyes never leaving kyungsoo’s figure. 

 

“how about you kyungsoo?” jongin says. the words are a deep murmur, like it’s intimate and not spoken in a room full of people.

 

kyungsoo fumbles slightly and his tongue feels heavy, sticking to the roof. he tests his introduction in his head before he coughs a little bit. “i’m kyungsoo. 28. i’m here to lead the group.”

 

jongin’s eyebrows rise. “you’re older? i thought you’d be a whole lot younger than i was.”

 

chanyeol makes a humming sound in agreement to jongin’s statement and he adds, “when we first met i thought he was, like, in his early twenties. and that was a few months ago.”

 

jongin nods at that, mumbling a _right_ under his breath and to chanyeol’s direction. he turns his eyes to kyungsoo’s again and their gazes meet each other. jongin smirks as he tuts. 

 

“and of course, you’re here to lead group. i’m asking why you’re _here_.” jongin waves his right hand in the air and kyungsoo tilts his head in confusion. jongin has a patient smile in his face, infinitely curious and borderline prying.

 

“ah!” sehun makes a sound of understanding. “you’ve never told us why, kyungsoo?”

 

kyungsoo has an idea what but he asks to confirm still. “why i am here as in, why i’m a priest? or well, almost a priest?”

 

baekhyun and chanyeol make noises of _ooh-ing_ realizations and minseok nods his head before he rests his cheek against his palm and looks at kyungsoo too. kyungsoo shrinks under the scrutiny of everyone in group.

 

he keeps his answer standard. “it’s my calling.”

 

jongin eyes him in a way that kyungsoo cannot make sense of. “called by who? your parents? grandparents?” he lifts one shoulder in a shrug as he pushes himself against the back of the chair. he crosses his right leg over the other. “rich catholic families tend to do that. one sacrificial son in exchange for eternal salvation.”

 

jongin says salvation like it’s a particularly expensive commodity. kyungsoo knows it is. he has seen the signed checks and the newly renovated orphanage.

 

“by god,” kyungsoo deadpans. the words do not resonate inside him like before. the fire inside is long gone, alongside the belief and the faith—if not towards god then to himself.

 

jongin snorts as if he understands. as if he knows the lie that kyungsoo is maintaining. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

kyungsoo catches jongin leaving the confession rooms a few days after the older male has first joined the support group. he’s walking idly, at least, without a certain weight to his steps. he does not look pissed but neither does he look happy.

 

the older male is about to press himself to a cranny in the wall when jongin spots him. the man pauses before he makes his way to kyungsoo’s direction. kyungsoo feels stupid at wanting to hide but jongin’s expression makes him feel again—that shiver underneath his skin and the heaviness of his tongue. the lethargy in his limbs, as if jongin’s presence is eating him away.

 

discomfort bubbles in kyungsoo’s gut alongside something he’d rather not think about.

 

“hello, kyungsoo,” he greets. “nice to run into you here.”

 

kyungsoo’s lips twist. “i live here with the—”

 

“the priests and the nuns,” jongin finishes his sentence. kyungsoo cannot help but clutch the broom tighter. jongin’s eyes make him feel naked. the discomfort heightens and _that_ something else.

 

“you know?” jongin begins. he sways a little bit as he takes a half a step closer to kyungsoo’s space. it’s the closest they have ever been. kyungsoo screams at his feet to move away but they don’t. he stays rooted on the spot with air between their bodies and the tall broom. 

 

“my brother said it was not that bad.” jongin tells him idly. kyungsoo cannot help but notice the way the younger man’s eyes twinkle. “he used to attend your group a year ago—jongdae.”

 

kyungsoo does not remember jongdae that much. “i wasn’t group leader then. i was mostly just assisting and learning still.”

 

“you don’t remember him?” jongin asks quietly.

 

“vaguely,” kyungsoo replies.

 

“hm,” jongin hums. “i thought you would. i thought a goody two shoes like you would be the type but—” jongin grins. the smile holds no happiness or mirth. there is a tinge of amusement and a whole lot of intrigue and curiosity. “i figured this was as much as a job to you as being a COO to me was.”

 

kyungsoo freezes up. rarely does someone come up to him and call what he does—what he will be—as is. it is one thing to call it a vocation— _vocare, a calling—_ but it’s another to refer to it as a job without the sweet sugar of faith.

 

“i have a bad memory,” kyungsoo flails around. he feels exposed like this, standing in front of jongin in his starched trousers and collared shirt. 

 

jongin hums again before he waves his hand, waves the topic away. 

 

“he told me it wasn’t that bad. that it was not the same old religious bullshit that i hate. jongdae was adamant it wouldn’t be singing and dancing around a crucifix. and…” 

 

jongin trails off into a pause and the silence lasts a little bit. jongin’s narrow eyes drop down to kyungsoo’s lips and he takes another half a step.

 

kyungsoo, at that moment, takes a step back. jongin tilts his head before he too takes a step back, but only half.

 

“and he told me,” jongin drawls, “he told me that the group leader is cute.” he rakes his eyes down kyungsoo’s figure. he takes his time and kyungsoo’s hands shake from where they are holding the wooden handle of the broom.

 

“at least, jongdae was not lying.” jongin’s eyes were on kyungsoo’s face now. there is a small smile playing on his lips. his mouth is crooked to the left. “you really are cute—exactly my type.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

three more group sessions and kyungsoo has learned many things about kim jongin, the man. button down shirts tucked into dark trousers paired with shiny italian dress shoes can only hide so much.

 

the discomfort bubbles away like a tide ebbing back into the shore. the remnants of it are thin threads snaking their way into kyungsoo’s consciousness. the group is livelier too and, as far as kyungsoo knows, there is even a time when the adults have gone to sehun’s high school dance recital because his father is still in japan and his mother is at the hospital after the sudden birth of sehun’s nephew.

 

on the sixth session post kim jongin, kyungsoo enters an empty room—save for one person.

 

“g’ afternoon, kyungsoo,” jongin says without turning his head back to face the older male. kyungsoo rounds the table to sit at his usual place. his eyes roam the room and somehow, it seems bigger with just the two of them.

 

“where are the others?” kyungsoo asks. 

 

jongin tilts his head back as he lists, “chanyeol’s at the studio slaving over some male idol group and baek is tied up in front of his laptop chasing a deadline. sehun is finally visiting his nephew out of town and minseok is on retainer by a rich asshole so he has no choice but do what he asks.” jongin frowns at thisbefore he offhandedly adds, “i swear the high society is getting worse and worse with new generation _chaebols_.”

 

kyungsoo makes a face at what he has brought—a board game. he sighs. “it’s useless to do group when you’re the only one here, jongin.”

 

jongin raises an eyebrow at him before he stands up. he says, “glad you think of me like that.”

 

kyungsoo laughs a bit at the teasing tone and his eyes follow the man’s long figure as he heads to one corner of the room. there is a thermos placed on the table alongside paper cups. jongin fills two with hot water before he drops a tea bag each.

 

the younger man walks behind him before he stops. his long arms reach over kyungsoo and he leans down. kyungsoo’s heart hammer inside him as a strong chest hover his back, completely looming over his narrow form.

 

“here,” jongin whispers. his warm breath fans on the skin of kyungsoo’s ear. “earl grey—your favorite.”

 

kyungsoo shivers right then and there and jongin takes a step back. instead of going back to his seat, he pulls the chair beside kyungsoo before he sits down. he crosses his legs and rests the steaming paper cup on top of the table. jongin likes his tea green and kyungsoo notices the single serving stick of honey.

 

“earl grey tastes better with some muscovado sugar,” jongin says out of nowhere.

 

kyungsoo twists his body to the side and his breath catches in his throat as he sits face to face with jongin. the smile is gentle on jongin’s face, indulgent and content. it looks good on him—a different good from the way arrogant smirks lift his face.

 

“maybe next time,” he mumbles in reply.

 

“i can go and bring you one tomorrow.”

 

“tomorrow?” kyungsoo asks in wonder.

 

“yeah,” jongin nods. “i’m going to confession.”

 

kyungsoo cannot help it. he blurts out, “but you’re an atheist, aren’t you?”

 

jongin nods and he takes the tea bag out of the water. there is an ashtray in the middle of the table and he pulls it towards himself. the sound of crystal dragging against the wood is loud in the silence of the room.

 

“i meant,” kyungsoo flushes. “that—well, i’ve noticed. for someone who does not believe in god, you go to confessions many times.”

 

jongin lifts his paper cup and he blows soft air into the hot tea. his lips form in a pout and kyungsoo’s stare moves to it before he turns his head away. he takes his own cup and removes the tea bag, plopping it on the ash tray beside jongin’s used one. he mimics the younger man’s action as he blows air into his own paper cup.

 

“i like it,” jongin replies after a second. “i like going to confessions.”

 

“really?” kyungsoo leans in. it sounds so—paradoxical to juxtapose a non-believer in the practice that is, essentially, built upon belief and alongside it, repentance.

 

“really, really,” jongin nods. “it’s not like i go pray afterwards, you know? what is it again? ten _our fathers_ and five _hail marys—_ imagine if i can pray away murder like that. one hundred of _our father who art in heaven_ and one thousand of _hail mary full of grace the lord is with you_. it doesn’t sound—it sounds impossible. confessions.”

 

“then why do you do it?” kyungsoo scowls. “if you don’t even respect it.”

 

“i respect it. kind of.” jongin takes another sip of his tea. “it’s like going to a therapist. except therapy sessions cost upwards of eight hundred thousand won and going to church is free.” jongin sets the paper cup down. the action is gentle. “and i’m a businessman.”

 

kyungsoo cannot help it but he laughs. jongin has the audacity to blaspheme while being in church grounds. jongin gives him a tight lipped smile. he looks amused. if anything, he seems to be happy to get a laugh out of kyungsoo.

 

“you’re very—” kyungsoo pauses as he searches for a word. “intelligent?”

 

“that a question?”

 

kyungsoo mulls it over before he grins privately. “no. it’s not.”

 

jongin chuckles. “atheism does that to you.”

 

kyungsoo scowls but he does not feel as offended as he should be. jongin seems like the offensive type—the usual smartass businessman with a cunning mind. cynicism in the form of a six-foot tall man.

 

“religion won’t make you stupid,” kyungsoo deadpans. “if it does, then you’re doing it wrong.”

 

“i just—” jongin laughs to himself. it’s a low and deep sound, like a rumble of a thunder from far away. “think about it. christianity is built on a lie.”

 

“how exactly?” kyungsoo twists his body and he leans closer in interest. his index finger traces mindless patterns over the table before it climbs the slope of his paper cup. the warmth seeps into the pads of his finger. 

 

“mary fucked a dick and got hitched. _et voilà_ , a baby. she’s from a rich family too. it’s easy to cover everything up.” one of jongin’s hands move to hold the armrest of the chair that kyungsoo is sitting on. kyungsoo’s eyes flit downwards, for a moment, to the way jongin’s shirt wraps around the male’s arm. 

 

“so you don’t believe in the virgin birth?” kyungsoo raises his eyebrows before he gulps. interest bubbles in his gut alongside anticipation.

 

“i’ve fucked enough people to know there is no such thing as a virgin birth.” jongin moves his seat closer. the room, too, feels smaller. kyungsoo does not mind the proximity. “religions are—interesting… the same way cars are and books are.” 

 

jongin pauses again before he tilts his head to the side. there is a small smile playing on his lips. 

 

“i’ve read the bible, you know? it’s a personal favorite the same way war and peace is—except less.” he grins down at kyungsoo and he looks younger, charming and boyish. “war and peace is my all-time favorite.”

 

kyungsoo’s eyes widen before he blurts out, “mine too!”

 

“really?” jongin leans in again. interest is palpable from his posture and position. “i figured it would have been the bible for you.”

 

kyungsoo shakes his head. “that’s ridiculous.” there is lightness in their conversation. “the bible is kind of boring,” he admits sheepishly.

 

jongin throws his head back in laughter and kyungsoo cannot help but run his eyes on the stark length of jongin’s exposed neck and the hint of skin in between the opened folds of his dress shirt. amusement bubbles up and erupts in short huffing sounds before he, too, throws his head back and laughs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

the next day, he finds father lee handing him a paper bag from the local organic grocery store. he peeks inside and finds muscovado sugar. the old priest eyes him in confusion but he does not make any other comment. there is a phone number tucked inside with a simple _jongin._

 

he grabs his phone and saves it.

 

kyungsoo finds that jongin is right—earl grey tastes better with a little bit of muscovado sugar. one tablespoon in his large mug and it’s a completely different drink.

 

his phone lies a few inches from his cup and the tea is really good and warm. kyungsoo’s insides feel at ease and he does not hold back. he taps the message icon and types a quick _thank you for the sugar, jongin. — kyungsoo._

 

he receives a _you’re welcome_ in reply. kyungsoo does not text back but the phone number in his phone does not bother him. something in the air shifts and kyungsoo knows.

 

kim jongin is not that bad, he thinks, even if he is an atheist.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

kyungsoo stirs from his sleep when his phone vibrates. he groans and blearily gropes around for the device. it vibrates some more and he resists the urge to spit a curse, settling instead for another frustrated groan. 

 

his fingers meet the cold screen of his phone and he rolls over to his side. he squints and hits the home button. the light floods the room and he averts his eyes from the sudden assault. rarely does kyungsoo get messages like this anymore, especially since it’s around two in the morning. everyone who has his number is asleep before midnight.

 

he tries to read the name and _kim jongin_ flashes at him. he figures if anyone is awake past twelve midnight, it’s jongin.

 

before he can even unlock his phone, a new message pops up. it’s a simple _please_ and without the other texts, kyungsoo has no idea what jongin wants.

 

he rolls again and lies flat on his back before he opens his phone. there are a series of text messages from jongin. the first one is asking if kyungsoo is awake and a minute after, jongin is texting if they can meet. three minutes and two apology texts later, jongin has sent that he’s ten minutes away from the church grounds.

 

the second to the last one says that jongin is parked outside and the last is the nondescript please that betrays the desperation of the entire thing.

 

“fuck,” kyungsoo whispers to himself. he’s glad he’s an old boy, trusted enough to be given his own room. he clutches the phone tighter to himself as he shoots a quick _wait for me._ he has no idea why he is doing this but he finds himself sitting up and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. he grabs his oversized hoodie and slips his feet inside his nike sneakers.

 

quietly, he gets out of his own room. he thanks god he’s near the back door and he slips his extra key inside his pocket alongside his phone. he tiptoes out of the dormitory and he’s heard of other people doing this, usually the younger seminarians, but he has never realized that he’ll do it himself.

 

he does not understand why he is even doing this. a few texts and he’s breaking a million rules. the thought sends a thrill down kyungsoo’s spine and it settles into an electric tingle underneath his skin. he huddles deep inside his hoodie as he pulls his phone out.

 

there’s a tree to the west side of the church and kyungsoo shoots jongin a quick text to wait for him there. kyungsoo pockets his phone again and he scales the tree, cursing himself and kim jongin. he mentally berates himself for being stupid enough to do this and he swallows a lump in his throat as he carefully crawls and wiggles from the branch to the cemented wall. 

 

“kyungsoo!” someone whisper-yells and kyungsoo looks down to see jongin’s face. the man is out of his dress shirts and tailored trousers. kyungsoo can’t see the colors properly in the dark but the casual striped sweater makes him even broader. the horizontal stripes span the width of jongin’s figure nicely. 

 

the older male looks down from the height and he gulps. “it’s too high,” kyungsoo whines. he clutches himself as he sits on his hunches. the wall is taller than jongin is and kyungsoo knows for a fact that jongin is already tall.

 

“it’s too high,” kyungsoo repeats again. he whimpers slightly.

 

jongin smiles up at him and the younger man opens his arms wide. he stretches it in front of him and says, “jump. i’ll catch you.”

 

kyungsoo shakes his head. “i’m scared,” he replies softly.

 

jongin’s smile gentles and evens out. he looks charming again—like he’s not that person with all the baggage going to the support group once a week. he looks like he’ll brew kyungsoo his favorite earl grey with the muscovado sugar.

 

“come on,” jongin nods. he wiggles his fingers. “if you can believe in god, you can believe in me.”

 

there is still a smile playing on jongin’s lips. in the darkness, it’s as bright as the stars on the night sky. kyungsoo finds himself smiling along with the taller male. he adjusts himself on the wall and he loosens the muscles on his calves. the wind nips the skin of his face and he is sure he’s red in the face.

 

kyungsoo whispers, “okay,” before he falls.

 

he feels the wind around him and the entire world falls apart before he closes his eyes. kyungsoo feels everything disappear in that span of a moment. like nothing else matters, no god and no universe and—

 

something warm and solid catches him.

 

no god, no universe.

 

just him and jongin’s arm around his figure.

 

there is a short sound of laughter, deep and mellow like the first strums of an old guitar. kyungsoo’s chest is pressed against a hard chest and strong arms are wrapped around his waist. his hair brushed against a sharp jawline and kyungsoo snuggles deeper into the warmth.

 

he thinks he hears a whisper from jongin but kyungsoo is not too sure. his eyes are still closed and the sound is carried by the wind alongside the flow of adrenaline.

 

“ _caught you._ ”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so embarrassed to post this. i really have a hard time writing this one and i think i scrapped around 5k words before it ended up being very experimental and vague :( to my prompter, i hope you like this one still.


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